


I wrap my hands around your throat so tight...

by Leafontehwind



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek has trouble telling the difference between dreams and real life, Happy ending because of reasons, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Surprisingly Canon Compliant, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:04:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1378285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafontehwind/pseuds/Leafontehwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is plagued by nightmares of things that may not have happened. The realm of what is real or dream...he can't differentiate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO... I had this idea when watching the finale. ~~It's not what happened but I like this.~~ Inspired by the last five or so minutes of the 3B finale.
> 
> Derek to think maybe something else happened. To hate himself because of... yeah. Read it. I delayed another fic update due to the fact that this ate my brain. Part two up this weekend lovelies.
> 
> Title is from the 30 Seconds To Mars song "Up in the Air.'
> 
> I've had a crush on Jared Leto for forever. He's gorgeous, talented... UGH. Everything that makes me envious.
> 
> Comments and kudos are amazing. Again. SECOND PART OF THIS IS A THING.

_Amber eyes were staring back at him, wide with panic as long, slender fingers scrambling against Derek’s fingers that were wrapped around his throat. All he remembered, all knew knew was that he had to do this. He had to choke the life out of the Nogitsune wearing Stiles’ face. He had to do it to save Stiles. Who was dying. And, once again, everything led back to something that he did, something in his past that made this his fault. That was why he had to be the one to right this. Had to be the one to kill the Nogitsune and get Stiles out of danger once and for all._

Derek shot up from his bed with a start, his skin covered in a cold sweat. Breath came in brief pants and dread seemed to be thrumming through every ounce of his being, coursing through his veins, sinking into his bones. The dream was still vivid, the events was replaying in his mind as if on repeat. Making him relive it, taunting him. 

_He knew that he couldn’t listen to anything that the demon would say. His utterance would just be used to confuse him. To lead him astray. Stiles didn’t have the time to waste. The teen was dying. He was gaunt, shadows stood out stark against his pallor skin; barely able to keep himself upright as he walked for extended periods of time._

_No more games. This whole thing had gone on for far too long and Derek was going to end it. Now._

He felt a wave of nausea hit, bolting from the bed he barely made it to the bathroom before heaving into the toilet. Derek rested his head on his forearm that was bracketed over the bowl of the toilet. With his free hand he reached up and flushed the toilet, the contents of his stomach being sucked away down the pipes, gone forever like he desperately wished the images from his dream would do. He wanted to purge them from his memory, but willing them away didn’t stop them from flashing behind his now closed eyes; images burned into his retina.

_Derek snarled at Stiles’ doppelganger, fingers tightening against the demon’s neck. He would broke no excuse to getting through the means to get to the end desired. Even with his werewolf side, he had never been prepared to kill anyone. Fight and defend, of course. Murder? No. He never fully wrapped his head around that. Not until revenge for his family came into the picture. Not until someone or something threatened the pack. His pack. Surrogate pack... He knew that he was part of Scott’s pack in some way._

_Despite his reservations, he tightened his grip fingers squeezing enough to hear a crack, bones grinding together as he crushed the life out of the Nogitsune. He waited, keeping the pressure on well until the light went out of his eyes. Until the stolen liquid amber orbs went flat and lifeless, the scrambling fingers fell away knuckles brushing against the hardwood floor._

_Derek released his grip, letting the body crumple onto the floor with little less grace than a rag doll. He had done it. Defeated the demon and saved the human that he pretended not to have fallen for._

_“Deeeereek,” The familiar voice sounded from behind him. No. “You just gave me the best present I could have asked for. And, I didn’t even have to ask for it.” Derek stood stock still, hands clenched into fists by his sides as his blood ran ice cold. “How do you think it went for him? His last moments? Thinking... Knowing that it was you of all people, not me, not anything I did really, that drained the life out of him... You know that he loved you, right? Hoped that you would come to your senses and go after him... Isn’t that the most tragic thing, knowing that your face was the last thing he saw? If he wasn’t already regretting falling for his Sourwolf, well, I assure you he was then.”_

_The demon’s words grew louder with every sentence, more manic. “LOOK AT ME. LOOK AT HIM AND WHAT YOU DID.”_

How did you know when you were dreaming? Derek lifted his head and slowly stood up, moving to the sink to rinse the taste of bile out of his mouth and splash water against his face. Brining him back to what he thought was reality. It was so visceral-- so real. Derek had to make sure it was a dream. He couldn’t remember the act of waking up, just being startled, yes, but he couldn’t differentiate between reality and what he had dreamt.

The only way to figure this out was to go see him. To go visit Stiles and make sure that he was _Stiles_.

Derek dressed quickly, not registering what he put on, everything was mechanical; second nature. There was literally only one goal in mind. It was something that was reverberating in his brain, through his veins and driving him. _Stiles. Stiles. Stiles_


	2. We lay together now, just now, too close too close (how close is close enough)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Derek's nightmare about murdering Stiles, he rushes over to check up on the teenager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this came along a bit after I thought it wound. Muses and work schedule dominating my life... I still didn't give up. I was debating writing a part three but, we shall see loves.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments are highly encouraged!! <3333
> 
> PS: Title is from a Taking Back Sunday song. XD
> 
> €€

It didn’t take him very long at all to arrive at the Stilinski residence, even on foot. At least he was able to credit that to his preternatural abilities to that end result. Had he been actually thinking this through, Derek might have taken his car the familiar route to the teenager’s house. Maybe he would have realize that running the whole way to Stiles’ house would not be seen as particularly _’normal_ ’ if there were any on-lookers. At the very least, he would have at least had the sense to change out of his undershirt and threadbare pajama bottoms. Hell, at the very very least, he would at least have put on shoes. Clearly, _clearly_ , he hand’t been in the realm of the mental capacity to be thankful that this hadn’t been a night that he had worn less, or even nothing, to bed. If he had actually been able to focus on anything apart from the task at hand, he would have thanked whatever higher power there was for small miracles.

Without any hesitation and climbing with his usual natural grace, Derek scaled the side of the house as he had dozens if not countless times before. As he reached his target, the werewolf leaned precariously against the ledge of the windowsill, peering through into the pitch dark room. From the tell tale lump beneath the comforter that lay diagonally in the bed, he could tell that Stiles was there sleeping. Even though this eased his anguish some, it didn’t do much to stop the twisting in his gut. It did nothing to silence the voice in the back of his mind whispering, insisting that everything was not, in fact, all right.

Derek knew rationally knew that he could wait until tomorrow, wait until morning. At the very least, wait until Stiles had the change to have a decent nights sleep. After everything the youth had been through, it was the least that he deserved. The carpeted floor felt soft beneath his bare feet as he entered the room, his toes flexing at the contrast between it and the ground outside or even the roughness of the ledge of the roof he had been standing on just a few short seconds ago.

The light from an LED digital alarm clock cast shadows on the younger boy’s face. It made his fair skin look even more pale than it usually was,casting shadows beneath his eyes making Derek’s stomach turn. Even his cheekbones looked sharper in the artificial light, almost making him look gaunt. It was another reminder of his dream, since he just looked even more like the Nogitsune, a wan version of the young man. Derek reigned in a whine, not wanting to rouse him.

“Stop being a creeper wolf,” Stiles’ voice was rougher than it normally was, slightly groggy but aware.

“I--” Derek swallowed audibly, eyes searching the younger man’s face. Searching for... well, searching for signs that this was Stiles. It was difficult to tell when his eyes were just fluttering open, face more or less void of expression. The lack of animation in his features instantly had him thinking how easily the Nogitsune impersonated Stiles, that even if it looked and sounded like him, it could still be a trick. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Stiles sat up, sliding to the side of his bed and swinging his feet over the edge. The teenager scrubbed a hand over his face, tired eyes drifting closed for a minute as he reached to switch on his bedside lamp. The light helped Derek to see him better, to not be haunted by things from the past that weren’t there. Stiles still didn’t look well, did not look like his old self. There were still bruises under his eyes and his skin tone still held a sick sort of pallor... Still. It was clear that he was on the right track, that he was on the mend. Derek could see the differences from Stiles’ doppleganger and the young man before him. 

“You didn’t,” Stiles ran a hand through his hair, resting on the back of his neck. “I’ve been laying here for what feels like hours but it probably was only like, I don’t know, twenty minutes.” The teenager let out a clipped laugh, eyes staring fixedly at the floor. “I guess being possessed by a evil spirit tends to keep you up at night. Who would’ve thunk?”

Derek hummed, giving himself a moment to work past the lump in his throat that had formed at hearing Stiles talk so casually about it. He knew that it was more or less a coping mechanism, but it stung him a bit. Stiles was acting as if he hadn’t recently been dangerously close to being lost to them forever. As if he hadn’t been near the brink of death. “How are you?”

The teenager rolled his eyes, his hands falling to his side and clenching into fists. There was a distinct change in how he held himself. It seemed like his whole body was thrumming with anger. It was something that he recognized, an emotion that coiled around your heart and swept through your entire body like a force to be reckoned with. It was how he felt after the fire, after Laura’s death... It was consuming. He knew he wasn’t that same man anymore, he had changed and grown. Coming back to Beacon Hills had helped him in ways he hadn’t thought possible. But even still, he could recognize it in the younger man right now, seeing the emotions contort his expressive face. He hated seeing Stiles like this. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate the concern, really,” The teenager’s voice was clipped, terse even as he looked up at Derek. His honeyed gaze bright with emotion, almost as if he were daring Derek to contest what he was about to say. Probably because he had heard it all before, from every end of the spectrum due to the care and concern of family and friends alike. “But I wish everyone would stop asking me that thinking that I’m ten seconds away from a breakdown. I’m fucking fine!”

The beta’s eyes widened a fraction before he broke eye contact with the younger man, turning his head to the side for a second. Even with all that they had been through, the ups and downs of their interactions together, Derek was a fool to think that he was welcome here. That this was something that he was allowed to do. After all, part of this was his fault-- hell, all things considered, he would shoulder all of the blame for it. Jennifer wouldn’t have had the power if the tragic debacle with Paige had never occurred. It was absurd how many ties were linked to his past mistakes.

The werewolf steeled himself, even with the dream seeming as realistic as it did, he shouldn’t have come here. He had thought that they had built up a sense of camaraderie, friendship wasn’t quite the word... But, he had thought it was _something_. Clearly, he had been sorely mistaken. Which, in all actuality, given his track record, he really shouldn’t be surprised. “Sorry I asked, I’ll just go.”

Stiles let out a groan of frustration. As Derek turned his back starting to exit back through the window, he could hear the telltale creak of the mattress as the teenager stood. “Wait,” fingers closed around his wrist. The pressure was firm and insistent, broking no excuse for argument as to what he was about to say to the former alpha werewolf. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a dick to you. It’s just... frustrating, being treated like I’m as fragile as freaking spun glass. Plus, the whole really not sleeping thing still has me a teensy bit on edge. Add that onto the whole... well, everything that is our lives... I don’t know. It’s been a long couple of years.”

There was a brief silence, the teenager’s fingers twitching, tightening their grasp for the briefest second before letting go. “Don’t go. Tell me what’s up.”

Derek let out a breath of air through his nose, not bothering to turn around, “Nothing is up, I just wanted to... I needed to check on you.” He let his his eyelids drift closed, knowing that even this small admission would register with Stiles. Hell, he could practically hear the gears in his head turning. The former alpha had gotten better at this, or so he thought. The past couple of months, he had been willing to help Scott, to be a guide and just offer his knowledge when he thought it would prove useful. Hell, he had gotten better at talking in general. Why was it that around Stiles, he reverted a little bit? Maybe... maybe it was a bit of self preservation on his part.

“Wait,” the teenager took a step back before he paced toward his desk then back, standing behind the werewolf once again. There was a pause were he made a clicking sound with his tongue, as if working over the information in his head. “So, out of the blue you just decided that you needed to come and check in on me? To what? Make sure that everything was cool? At,” Stiles glanced back at his clock before throwing his hands up, “quarter of three in the morning? ...In your pajamas.”

The beta turned around slowly, schooling his expression to what he imagined to be devoid of emotion. It was something he was good at, something that he had managed to become an expert at ever since the fire. It was his default setting, a measure to push people away since he had literally lost _everything_ that had ever mattered to him. His family, past loves and betrayals... Everything in his past had left him shattered, wounded. Which was why he was so guarded. Explained why when he had come back to Beacon Hills he was the way he was. In the wake of his sisters death and becoming Alpha, he went about it all the wrong ways, lust for power clouding his mind. He had done, at the time, what he thought was best. And he mourned the beta’s, feeling their loss down to his bones. If he could go back knowing what he knew now, he would go about it differently. He stood by them as his choice for his pack, but, dammit. There was no time than that that he had wished he could have spoken to his mother, gotten her wise guidance that was passed to Laura and not him. He was never meant to be the alpha...

Had they not moved from Beacon Hills, Derek was sure that Laura would have had a thriving pack. Hell, everything that had happened in the past couple of years probably wouldn’t have been as big of an issue if someone better than him had had a handle on things. 

Stiles tilted his head to the side, hands on his hips. Derek stood there, knowing that Stiles could see through him, that he was the most astute person he had ever met. Even with that, he could also be completely pig-headedly oblivious... Derek was more or less sure that that was an automatic trait that came with being a teenager. Somethings just came from experience. Still, standing there, he could see the familiar whiskey colored eyes roving over the lines of his face searchingly. It was times like this that there was the inkling to shift back and forth on his feet like the awkward teenager that he never really became. Though more than that, whether it was his pride or something else, Derek stood his ground. letting his gaze meet the teenagers for a long moment. 

After what seemed like near ten minutes, Stiles averted his gaze, glancing toward the floor near his desk. “Look, just sit down like a good little boy-- see, personal growth man, I went with boy and refrained from the dog joke.” He paused, eyes flitting back to the werewolves face for a brief second, a soft smile curving his lips. “Sit down and tell me what’s going on. Everything will be easier if we’re on the same page, I hear that usually helps negate misunderstandings and the like.”

Derek heard the serious undercurrent in the last sentence, and that was what got him. Part of his hesitance was that he was never good with his words, that he had gotten to a point that he closed himself off and stopped being good at discussing or expressing his feelings. Considering his history, it wasn’t much of a surprise. But, nonetheless, Derek found walking over and setting himself down on the edge of the bed, hands resting on his lap. Stiles paced once more along the length of his bed before sitting down beside the werewolf, leaving just a couple of inches between the pair of them.

“You had trouble before,” the werewolf started quietly, eyes focused solely on his hands as he tried to focus on the words; tried to focus on what he was going to say next. He didn’t want to startle the teenager, to make him privy to the dreams that had haunted him for weeks. The dreams that fueled him to help the pack find Stiles and stop the Nogitsune. He knew he should have been able to help more, he hated himself for not being able to be the one to put an end to all of it. “Knowing if you were asleep or dreaming. How... How do you tell the difference?”

Stiles drummed his fingers on his thigh, exhaling audibly. “I read a lot of things online about it, when all of this,” He waved his hands around in the air to try to illustrate the whole ‘everything,’ the enormity of the catastrophe of the Nogitsune had been. “Started. There was a lot of different information about lucid dreaming, but there was only like a handful of it that I found to be actually helpful.” 

The teenager ducked his head to the side, pausing to take in the werewolf for a minute before clearing his throat. “Uh, so, right. Mostly, they said look for things that seemed impossible, but,” Stiles barked out a laugh, “Given our lives, that was something easier said than done. Reading, you can’t read in dreams. If you try to focus on the text, it becomes blurry or turns into symbols or shapes. If that’s not an option, try to check on how you look, your, uh, appearance. In a mirror, you’ll look completely different or blurry around the edges, that’s a surefire sign. Extra fingers or limbs are another usual occurrence. If, uh, your dream is set in your home or a common place, try to look for common objects and if things are out of place. Oh! And try to check the time. If you can’t read the time, if it’s blurry or even if you looked and couldn’t register what it said... That’s another tell tale sign.”

Derek took in the information, nodding minutely for a moment as the silence settled between them. “Thank you. And... and these methods helped you when... before you were...”

“Possessed by a spirit who was over a thousand years old?” The teenager let out a broken sounding laugh, ducking to rub the back of his neck as if he were embarrassed to talk about. “Yeah, when I thought I was straight up losing my mind, these things helped. Helped try and ground myself and stave off panic attacks if I could.”

Derek cataloged the information that he had supplied, running it over within the confines of his mind. The signs seemed simple enough that he would be able to remember them next time. Even if thinking back on the dream, he couldn’t recall anything that really seemed out of the ordinary. Then again, if he wasn’t looking for any signs, would they have really registered? Derek pursed his lips trying to let his mind rove over the events of the dream, but he couldn’t really recall anything that stood out to him.

From his peripheraral sight, he saw Stiles teeth bite into his lower lip, gnawing slightly as he pondered over something. “Do... Do you mind me asking...” He went silent again, shifting slightly closer to the older man. “What did you dream about?”

He knew that he didn’t _have_ to tell him, that he could have made something else up. Hell, there were so many horrors in his life that he could have made his dreams, his nightmares, about anything but the truth. Still. Derek chanced a glance to his right, taking in the teenagers calm and open expression. There was understanding lining his features and sympathy. If anyone would understand so completely, it would be Stiles. Derek focused back on his hands. They lay palm up on his lap, fingers curled upwards to the ceiling. For some reason, they, like him, looked defeated. Fuck, it would be his luck that his hands would seem to be the most expressive part of himself. 

“It’s been over the past week or two,” Hale started, lifting his eyes to stare unseeing out the window at the night. It wasn’t often that words seemed to flow out of him without violation. But, now seemed the time for it. The werewolf wasn’t sure if it was the situation or Stiles; Hell, or even if it was a combination of the two. “Every time I sleep, I see things going differently. With you... And the Nogitsune. In the dreams, let’s face it, **_nightmare_**. Always a nightmare.” Derek paused schooling his breathing into calm, measured intakes of air. If nothing else, he would at least remain more or less calm while discussing this. He couldn’t...He _wouldn’t_ show how much this had wounded him, how much it had cut him to the bone. Seeing various ways that he had put an end to the teenager’s life by his own hands in error. Stiles didn’t need that on his plate, certainly not when he was supposed to be focusing on getting better. “In the nightmares, I don’t remember that the Nogitsune has been defeated. I just know, with a deafening clarity that I need to save you. And the only way to do that is to put an end to him.” He let his eyes drift closed, images playing like a movie on the back of his eyelids. “And I did it. Choked the life out of him, buried my claws deep within it’s gut, drowned him... Name it and I’ve done it. The thing is... After, I had gotten it wrong. It would be him... it. The Nogitsune with your face telling me that I, that I killed you. That I had gotten it wrong. Killed the wrong version of you.”

Derek felt a hand slip into his, long slender fingers threading themselves with his own as he let out a shuddering breath of air. More than anything, the contact with Stiles grounded him. Assured him that this was the truth. That Stiles was alive and well. “So,” Stiles started, his voice sounding quiet, barely above a whisper. “You thought that you had killed me... And you had to make sure that... That it wasn’t true?”

“Yes,” his voice croaked out, free hand moving to scrub over his face. “I felt my hands squeeze the life out of you and I had to make sure that it wasn’t true. I had to make sure that you were alright.”

‘Hey,” Derek felt a hand on the side of his face, turning his head to face the younger man. “Hey, Derek, c’mon man, look at me.” The werewolf opened his eyes to meet Stiles’ face just inches away from him. “You didn’t kill me. Scott bit the Nogitsune and killed it. You, you would never hurt me on purpose. _Really_ hurt me. I mean, sure, dick around and hit my head against he steering wheel or throw me against a wall,” The teenager let out a small laugh. “But, really, other than that? I trust you Derek.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Derek rested his forehead against Stiles’ and tried to calm his own breathing down to something akin to normality. He knew that if there was any chance of him getting out of here without further complications, he needed to leave. He needed to stop anything before it started. He couldn’t have Stiles getting into more danger than he normally did, especially not simply because of him. It wasn’t fair. Stiles, fuck. Stiles deserved to have a life, something apart from the supernatural to call his own. 

Even with all of this, all of the reasons to pull away, to take his cards off the table and withdraw... He still, Derek still wanted this. Desperately. 

“Oh, Derek," Stiles let out a laugh, one that was short and clipped, broken due to the current emotions that were surging through the teen. “Well, I’ve never really been one much to do what I was supposed to. I figured you of all people would have known that.”

Without further notice, Stiles surged forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s. The older man didn’t move for a long moment, drinking in the feel of Stiles’ lips pressed against his. Drowning in the sensation of the firm pressure without insistence, without the rush to make this anything more than what it was. He stayed still long enough that Stiles started to pull away, no doubt trying to come up with an excuse or apology for reading the situation completely wrong. As much as he thought that he should push the vibrant younger man away, he wouldn’t have him second guessing this. Second guessing the undeniable chemistry that the had going on between them

The thought of never getting a second change for this again was enough to spur the former alpha into action. Derek lifted his free hand to rest against the back of Stiles’ neck, urging him forward for another chaste kiss that lasted only seconds before his tongue was licking past the seam of those plush lips.

Stiles kissed like nothing else mattered but this, poured every ounce of enthusiasm in it and made low, breathless sounds that had Derek going crazy. He allowed his other hand to rest on the younger man’s hip, fingers barely brushing past the hem to drink in the feel of bare skin. During the frenzy of the kiss, he barely registered how cold Stiles’ skin felt.

When they finally broke away for want of air, a yawn escaped the teenager’s lips, forcing him to duck his head almost bashfully. “That does not have any reflection on what just happened, the kiss was definitely not yawn-worthy, it was the opposite. Like hitting it out of the park, grand slam kind of thing. I just... Sorry. Like I said, not so much by the way of sleeping.”

Derek leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to the lips that had previously left him so entranced. “It’s late, you should try to get some sleep." The werewolf lifted his hand to cup the side of Stiles’ cheek, thumb tracing over the kiss bruised bottom lip almost in disbelief. As if he couldn’t grasp the fact that this was happening, that he was allowed this after everything, after every wrong step and disastrous result.

Before he could push himself off of the bed, fingers circled around his wrist once again as Stiles’ head tilted to the side, “Stay? Please? I mean, you don’t have to, but I really wouldn’t mind the company. Especially if said company is you." Derek could hear the uptick in his heart rate, spiking as he waited for a response. He didn’t want to rush anything, didn’t want Stiles to feel pressured... But, he was _asking_ Derek to stay. It wasn’t like they were going to do anything but sleep. So, that was alright, wasn’t it?

“Okay,” he said with a nod, feeling like this was some strange twist of reality. Not really knowing how his night started off as horrible as it had only to end here. He wasn’t going to question his luck. And, hell, if this was a dream, at least it as a better one than the one he had last. At least in this one, he was allowed to be with Stiles. That infinitely made this better than any of the other countless dreams he had experienced over the past couple of weeks. 

Derek was greeted with a beaming smile before Stiles ducked forward for another quick kiss. Stiles got up and walked around the bed, moving to settle onto the bed before ducking his head almost bashfully, well, at least bashful for Stiles, and gestured for the older man to join him. Derek let out a small chuckle before he slid himself back until his back rested against the headboard next to Stiles; so close that their shoulders were touching.

They sat there for a moment, just drinking in the situation and becoming more or less comfortable with what was going on. Derek opened his mouth to say something when Stiles grabbed his hand and lifted his arm to drape across his shoulders, shuffling closer to mold himself to the werewolf’s side.

The werewolf’s fingers curled around the boy’s upper arm, for the first time consciously registering his body temperature. “You’re cold.”

“Yeah,” Stiles moved to drape an arm across Derek’s middle, pressing his body closer, seeming to draw in the werewolf’s high body temperature. “I haven’t really been able to get warm since the whole thing. I don’t know if it’s a side effect from the possession or something else. I keep meaning to go and see if Deaton knows anything about it, but I’ve been kind of putting it off hoping my body will just get back to normal. That and we only get a straight answer from that man about fifty percent of the time, and that’s me being generous.”

Derek began to rub his hand along his arm, hoping that the friction would help the younger man warm up even a fraction. He knew that he hadn’t had any experience with being cold like Stiles was, but he was sensible enough to know who to try and right it. 

“Derek?” Stiles held up one of Derek’s hands holding it up before the older man’s face. “How many fingers do you see?”

He felt his eyebrows draw together, confused for a moment while he took in the splayed fingers spread before his face. “Five.”

“Good.” Stiles lifted his head, practically preening at the werewolf, eyes gleaming. It was nice to see him like this, to see Stiles so clearly happy without any tinge of sadness of worry pulling at the lines of his face. Derek was reasonably sure that he could get used to this. To seeing the boy so easily content just being with him like this. “See? This isn’t a dream.”

Derek gazed down at Stiles, drinking in he moment. He was in the midst of realizing that this, this right here and now... it was real. That what he could have imagined transpiring between himself and Stiles, this was miles beyond what he could have even imagined. And that was what made this all the better. What made the memories they were undoubtedly creating all the richer. Derek pressed his lips to the top of the teen‘s head, pressing a chaste kiss in his hair. “I’m glad.”

“Oh,” Another yawn escaped his lips, the tail end of it resulting in a high pitched noise, “And Der? You’re taking me on a date tomorrow. I’d say you could wine and dine me, but that’s a little against the law. Dinner and a movie? I hear there’s a new Marvel movie out. Or there’s that one about a time cop trying to save the love of his life. I’d suggest the Wes Anderson movie, but I feel like if there’s a touch of existentialism in it, you’ll revert to sentences under two words just to hold it against me.” Stiles rubbed his hand against Derek’s stomach, taking in the feel of the thin material over his well-muscled abdomen. His fingers twitched, thumb and index finger gathering the cotton material and rubbing it between his fingers as the silence pressed on. “So...?”

“I’d like that,” the werewolf rumbled, his hand moving up and down Stiles’ back in what he thought to be a soothing notion to induce the sleep that the other man so obviously needed.

Stiles smiled, nuzzling against Derek’s broad chest like a pillow as he started to drift off, “Cool.”


End file.
